


15. Sightseeing in London

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten [15]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-03
Updated: 2008-11-03
Packaged: 2018-01-01 17:21:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica





	15. Sightseeing in London

__**Sam and Ryan[](http://www.journalfen.net/users/kwanten/profile)[ **kwanten**](http://www.journalfen.net/users/kwanten/) : sightseeing in London**   
**players only. current.**

Even though they got up extra early, it still takes Sam and Ryan a good twenty minutes in line before they make it to the ticket booth at the Tower of London. Or almost to it. There's only the one cashier open and she's stuck dealing with this huge extended American family where the father can't seem to understand what she's saying. Rather than get involved, Sam turns to Ryan. "I can't believe you've never been to London," he says. "I thought it was some sort of Aussie Gap Year prerequisite."

"I didn't make it this far west," Ryan explains, shrugging deeper into his wool coat against the bitter winter wind. "I speak decent German, though. And a little Hungarian. Have you been here a lot for work?"

"Yeah, and I don't speak anything other than English, although my mum would even argue about that," Sam grins. "Say something dirty to me in German," lips brushing over Ryan's ear as he leans in close, making sure no one else hears them.

"Ah, you want dirty German," Ryan mumbles, blushing faintly as he grins and casts his mind back. He glances at the teenage American girl ahead of them who keeps checking them out, then murmurs, "Du willst meinen schwanz."

Sam laughs, nudging Ryan's shoulder, enjoying being out and about with his lover. "What does that mean?"

"It means you want my cock," Ryan whispers, then laughs. Yeah, his cheeks are on fire now.

"Yeah?" Sam's grin widens and he presses still closer, convinced the girl in front doesn't recognize him, not with the dark sunglasses and the scruff he's sporting. "As in a question or a statement?"

"Statement," Ryan answers, turning his head so his lips are just a breath away from Sam's. God, this is fun. Flirting out in public, acting like they've got nothing to worry about. "Or I could ask you, willst du meinen schwanz?"

"And I could say yeah, I do - as soon as we get back, you can have me on my hands on knees, begging for it," Sam whispers, eyes sparkling.

"You're gonna beg me?" Ryan asks, grinning. A throb of lust pulses through him, and he's suddenly grateful he chose the loose jeans today. "I don't want to miss that." Finally the family in front of them starts to move on, but the girl is outright staring at them now.

"Now that we don't have to worry about sound-proofing?" Sam grins back, his voice dropping back to a whisper. "I'm gonna beg you to fuck me so hard I scream," he says, turning to talk to the cashier and buy their tickets.

How does Sam _do_ that? Get Ryan so fucking hot in an instant, and then in the next second act like everything's totally normal. It's just not one of Ryan's talents. "Huh? Oh, right," he nods at the cashier and gives her a weak smile. _Christ_. He gives up on trying to be cool and just follows after Sam, stumbling only a little. His prick swollen full.

"Do you want to take one of those Beefeater tours?" Sam asks, once they're through the actual gates, pointing at a chalkboard with the times listed. "It's included and there's one in five minutes."

"Yeah, sounds good." Ryan eyes Sam sidelong, wondering how he can get him back. If it's even possible. "Any good ghost stories?"

"All sorts from what I remember," Sam says, checking out the map of the grounds they were given at the gate. "Lady Jane Grey and Anne Boleyn are two of them, though I think Jane only shows up on the anniversary of her death and Anne walks around with her head under her arm."

"Cool. What about the torture chamber?" Ryan asks, stepping close and checking the map over Sam's shoulder. "Will we be seeing that?"

"I don't think there was an actual torture chamber per se," Sam murmurs, still looking over the map. "But this tower," he pokes the paper, "Wakefield - it has replicas of the instruments they would have used in the lower chamber."

"Think it'll give you ideas?" Ryan drops his voice to make sure he's heard by Sam alone. "You know, I might bleed in you," he says conversationally, thinking of the cuts Sam left on his dick. Still healing.

It takes Sam's brain a second to catch up but when it does, his eyes widen, his cock jerking lightly. "Maybe that was the whole idea," he remarks just as casually.

"I don't know, sounds pretty fucking dirty to me." Ryan shrugs, a grin teasing at the corner of his mouth. "I might start thinking you like that kind of thing."

Sam smiles. "I don't think I've found anything yet I don't like when it comes to you," he says, sliding his hand up under Ryan's coat and giving his ass a squeeze.

The words warm Ryan nearly as much as the groping, making his heart pound harder. _Down, boy_ he warns himself, knowing he finds encouragement too easily. "Keep it up and I'm going to drag you into a dark corner, you know that."

"Promises, promises...." Sam teases, giving one more squeeze.

"You fucker," Ryan grumbles fondly. He has a sneaking feeling he's always going to lose this game. Of course, he kind of wins when he loses. "Come on. Let's go find our tour before I give up on the dark corner and just tackle you right here."

Sam laughs and moves them forward, using the growing crowd as an excuse to nudge close. They find their tour and their guide, James, who informs them he's a Yeoman Warder, _not_ a Beefeater, and mocks them all for their various accents, especially the Americans.

Ryan and Sam endure a bit of good-natured ribbing for their own thick accents - nothing to the Americans', still - and the group moves on through the Traitor's Gate. Ryan tunes out a bit when their guide begins talking about Queen Elizabeth the First, but the story of the two murdered princes catches his attention again. "You'd think their ghosts would be here," he murmurs to Sam. "That was brutal."

"I read something about them appearing in the tower itself," Sam whispers. "Apparently they appear crying and clinging to each other and whenever anyone moves to help them, they fade away."

"God, that's sad." Ryan shivers. Yeah, he believes in ghosts. Although in a place like this, where the weight of history is nearly oppressive, he doesn't see how anyone wouldn't. The tour moves on and he brushes his hand casually against Sam's, stealing a quick touch.

Sam smiles at the touch, wishing he could take Ryan's hand and be done with it. The Tower Green is next and James tells their group about some of the most poignant executions carried out here - Anne Boleyn, Catherine Howard, Lady Jane Grey. Mostly women. Mostly the wives of Henry VIII, except Jane. "You know, they think he had some kind of STD, maybe even a couple, and that's why his wives had such a hard time getting pregnant, carrying to term," he murmurs to Ryan.

''So it was all his fault, twice over. Nice,'' Ryan murmurs. He likes taking in the stories, appreciates that the yeoman warder serves up the most titillating details to hold his audience's attention.

James tells them about the Ravens and how many believe failing to keep them in the Tower would mean its fall and something terrible happening to England. "Have you ever heard about the monkeys in Gibraltar? Same kind of thing. They think as long as the monkeys are there, the territory'll stay under British rule so they bring more in whenever the numbers get low." Sam grins. He loves this stuff.

''I'm seeing a whole new side of you here,'' Ryan murmurs, grinning at Sam. ''It's sexy.'' Like Ryan ever needs the encouragement.

Sam laughs. "Being a history geek is sexy?"

"Most kinds of geek are sexy, seeing as it's you," Ryan whispers, stealing another touch of Sam's hand. "What are the odds I can get you in some glasses?"

The touch makes Sam smile, duck his head a little, feeling strangely like he's back in school and on a date or something. "What? You don't like my squint?"

Ryan laughs out loud, instantly self-conscious and glad he didn't interrupt their guide when he was speaking. ''I love your squint. But do you miss being able to see?'' he teases softly.

"I can see well enough," Sam says with a light shrug, only slightly defensive. "It's just anything really far away. I can read that sign for instance," he nods at a board with fairly small lettering roughly ten feet away from them. "It's beyond that things start getting blurry."

Shaking his head, Ryan just grins. "You know I think you're pretty perfect," he whispers, hoping it's okay to say so. Never quite sure when he's going to make Sam tense up or not.

Sam doesn't know why Ryan would but he nods, smiling a little. "Thanks. I think the same about you," he whispers back. It's about the closest he's got to saying anything about his feelings for Ryan.

Ryan beams and turns to give his attention back to James, their guide. Pretend he's switching his attention, anyway; in the White Tower there's a fascinating display of centuries-old armour, but Ryan always has a hard time concentrating on anything else when he's with Sam. It's a familiar problem, and not one he actually minds.

They finish out the tour with James, listening to the various people in their group asking questions as they go. Sam and Ryan exchange a couple looks at some of the stupidest questions, but Sam's impressed by how their guide manages to answer as though they were perfectly reasonable. What a job. When they're done they take a moment to thank James for his time and then they're on their own again.

"What do you want to see first?" Sam asks, consulting the map. "The Royal Jewels or the torture stuff?"

"I'm pretty familiar with the royal jewels," Ryan says with a snicker. It's a typical male response, and he just can't resist. "I want to see the torture stuff, obviously. So I can remember how lucky I am to be living in this century, with sophisticated dungeons."

Sam laughs. "It's over that way," he says, motioning with a finger, "but they only have a few replicas. I guess the ones they used the most." He grins. "I know I certainly have my favourites."

"Oh yeah? I've got lots to learn about your favourites," Ryan says, nudging Sam with his elbow. He starts walking backwards in the direction Sam indicated. "Maybe we'll see something that inspires you."

"I think I'm wearing one inspiration," Sam says, fingering the leather belt Ryan gave him for Christmas. "As soon as you're all healed up."

"Mmm, hard to complain about that," Ryan replies, turning around and taking his place by Sam's side again. A chill breeze hits them in the face and he shivers, thinking about being helpless beneath Sam's powerful hands. Again.

The few implements of torture on display actually don't nearly look like fun, though; not that Ryan had really thought they would be. "Jesus, to be a woman during medieval times. Accused of anything," he muses as they check out the branks and the breast ripper.

Sam winces, reading the descriptions for both. "Even the rack and this one," he checks the plaque beneath it, "the Scavenger's Daughter." He shakes his head. "It's all stretching or compressing. Hard to play around with these without doing some serious damage."

"Yeah, they didn't fuck around." Ryan frowns, more uncomfortable than he thought he'd be with the brutality of it all. He shoves his hands into his pockets, hunching into his coat. "Let's get out of here. We've still got Harrod's and the Eye to do."

They take the tube from the Tower Hill to South Kensington then switch to the Piccadilly Line and get off at Knightsbridge. It's a short walk to the department store from there but although the wind is brisk, it's a lovely clear day and Sam's enjoying the hustle and bustle around them. "I wish it was a little warmer," he tells Ryan. "We could get some stuff in the food hall and have a picnic in the park."

''Maybe before we leave for L.A. we'll be able to.'' Ryan looks around, stunned by the sheer magnitude of the store, if it can be thought of as something so ordinary. ''Anyone you want to shop for while we're here?''

"I could pick up some chocolate for my mum, maybe a scarf," Sam says, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "What about you?" Then he smiles. "Can I buy you something?" he asks. "Something you wouldn't normally get for yourself."

''Like a new mountain bike?'' Ryan grins and touches the leather cord on his wrist, tracing the thick braid for a moment. ''I think you've got me covered. But if I see anything, I'll let you know.''

"Okay, but don't let size or anything stop you. They'll ship to L.A.," Sam says, leading Ryan towards the Food Hall. "My mum likes these silver-dipped chocolate dragee things from Italy they have here."

"Wow," Ryan breathes as they enter the massive elaborately-decorated hall, brightly lit by... "Chandeliers? Here? This is amazing." They move through the crowd and he sniffs appreciatively, the air fragrant with competing scents of different foods. "I didn't even realize how hungry I was. But I should find something nice to send home to my parents as well," he says as they drift towards one of the candy shops.

"What do they like? Sweet, salty, chocolate?" Sam's already found the dragees his mum likes so much and he's just waiting for someone to serve them.

"Oh, marzipan!" Ryan exclaims, looking over the display. "Look at this, it's all shaped into Buckingham Palace! My mum will love this. And make sure I find a really tacky touristy shot glass for my brother. He's got a huge collection, always wants one from wherever someone goes." A serving girl comes over to them and he gives her a big smile.

Sam orders the chocolates for his mum and some cocoa-dusted macadamia nuts for his dad. He waits until Ryan's chosen out what he wants for his family then tells the serving girl that it's all together.

She wraps up their parcels and Ryan watches Sam pull out his wallet, feeling strangely uncomfortable. "Thanks. C'mon, I'll get lunch," he murmurs, taking the shopping bags. "Curry?" he nods towards a nearby kiosk selling delectable Indian food.

Sam nods, stomach already grumbling. "You should let me treat you though," he says as they get in line. "This place is really expensive."

"I've got it." Ryan shrugs. If he can't afford a little thing like lunch, then he is so fucked. "Was your family ever part of a clan?" he asks, changing the subject. "You know -- your ancestors, before they moved to Australia? I mean, we should get you a scarf with your clan colors. My mum had one of those, for the MacDougals."

"I'm not sure. You'd have to ask my dad," Sam says, ordering the lamb thali when they reach the front. "I know there's a coat of arms and there's a Worthington Hall somewhere in England but I've never really looked into it."

"Don't you want to? You seemed so into history today. It'd be cool to find your, um, roots." Ryan grins and pays for their food, ordering yellow chicken curry for himself, as well as a side of fresh naan bread.

"Yeah, I suppose so," Sam nods, smiling slowly, increasingly enthused the more he thinks about it. "Especially while we're here. I wouldn't mind checking out the hall." He takes his lunch and tucks it under his arm, wondering where they're going to eat when suddenly a couple gets up from the counter. "There. Shit. Grab those," he says to Ryan, weaving through the shoppers to grab the seats before anyone else does.

"All over it." Ryan slides onto one of the stools and sets his lunch out, claiming the spot for them. He digs in eagerly, the savory scents enticing. "It's good we're loading up," he says after a moment. "We're getting two bottles of champagne all to ourselves on the London Eye tour. Don't know what it'd be if I drink that on an empty stomach."

Sam chuckles. "Good thing we're gonna have our pod all to ourselves," he says, thoroughly enjoying his thali. "I'm told I get overly affectionate when pissed," he adds with a grin.

"Really, sloppy kisses and all?" Below the counter, Ryan nudges Sam's thigh with his knee. "I'm looking forward to it. You'll have to shut me up somehow; I just talk too much."

"I don't know about sloppy kisses but my mates say I hug them. A lot," Sam laughs. "And I have the perfect way to shut you up but I expect the pod's not _that_ private."

"Damn windows," Ryan mutters, knowing that the glass walls are the point of the whole experience. He chases the last of his curry with bread, and murmurs, "I haven't had your cock in my mouth in _hours_."

Sam almost chokes on his thali at that, muffling his laugh with the back of his hand. "Slut," he whispers, lips brushing Ryan's ear.

"Yeah." _Your slut_ , he thinks, but he's learning not to say it. He hands over a few extra paper napkins.

Sam grins, just happy to be in Ryan's company. He glances at his watch. "I guess we'd better finish up our shopping and head over. They said they wanted us there fifteen minutes before."

"All right." They collect their trash and their bags, and barely edge out of the way of the next eager couple who's sliding into their vacated seats. "How far a walk is it?" Ryan asks, checking his map of Harrod's to see where else they should go first.

"Maybe half an hour," Sam says, peering over Ryan's shoulder. "Ladies accessories are on this floor, over that way, and bikes are on the fifth floor," he adds with another grin.

Ryan shrugs. "Okay. I guess we can look." A new bike's really not in his budget though, he knows, and he's too embarrassed to let Sam buy him such a big-ticket item. They head for the escalators.

They pick up a lovely Burberry scarf for Sam's mum with him promising he'll check out whether they have a tartan before the next time and then head up to the fifth floor, Sam getting a huge kick out of Ryan's response to the Egyptian escalator. "It's really something, isn't it?"

"Oh my god, they look real," Ryan says, pointing at the looming sarcophagi. "This place is amazing. I think you could come here and not buy anything at all, and still spend hours just looking." He grins at Sam, boyishly gleeful.

"Definitely," Sam says, and he has, a couple of times. "Oh! We should go to Sir John Soane's Museum. He was this private collector and he managed to get his hands on a real sarcophagus when the British Museum was running short on money. It's just sitting in his house. The whole place is full of the stuff he collected and there's these mirrors he put up in all the corners so he could see everything from wherever he was sitting. It's brilliant."

"Have they still got the mummy inside it?" Ryan asks, thinking it sounds like a place he wouldn't want to be after dark. "Probably not, I guess. But still, it sounds pretty incredible. We'll totally have to check it out."

"Nah, I think it's just the case," Sam says, stepping off the escalator and heading towards the bikes. "So what do you like? Do you like buying something all finished off the rack or buying something simpler and decking it out yourself?"

"I usually go for basic and just switch out the chains, then add a rack, but... wow. They have some really nice models here." He reaches out to rub a finger over the heavy tread of a tire. "Have you been up in the hills in L.A. yet? There are some awesome trails."

Sam shakes his head. "We should go some time. You can show me," he says. "Oh nice. Look at this one," he says, crouching beside the next bike. "It's supposed to have that new suspension system."

"Feel how light this frame is," Ryan says, lifting the bike for a moment and falling in love on the spot. "Mine's pretty mangled. I wiped out last year and it's just not been the same since." He's already planning where to take Sam when they get back to Los Angeles.

Sam takes a turn lifting the bike and lets out a low whistle. " _Nice._ Go ahead and try it out."

Ryan can't resist. He takes a seat, getting a feel for the handling. "This has great shocks," he says, then blanches when he catches sight of the price tag. _More than 2000 pounds!_

"Let me get it for you," Sam says.

"No, that's all right, nah. I've got to save up," Ryan says, climbing off the bike and putting it back on the display. He picks up their shopping bags again. "Let's go."

"No. C'mon. Let me buy it for you," Sam says. "It can be a late Christmas present since I didn't know what you'd want."

"You did know what I'd want, actually," Ryan says, smiling at him. Sam made a hell of a good guess, at least. Ryan brushes his hand against his lover's arm. "I don't need you spending money on me, Sam. I'd rather you didn't."

"Why?" Sam asks. "I don't spend it on anything else and it would make me happy if you let me."

Ryan can't believe they're standing in the middle of Harrod's and arguing about this, gently though it may be. He drags a hand through his hair, flushing. "Then buy me something I can afford, so I don't feel like such an asshole," he mutters.

"I'd rather buy you something you need and you said you need a new bike," Sam points out. "And I don't get why letting me spend money on you makes you feel like an asshole."

"Because I couldn't pay you back even if I wanted to," Ryan tries to explain. "And I don't want you to feel like I'm using you for your money."

"I don't expect you to pay me back," Sam says. "That's the whole idea. It's a gift. And I _want_ to buy it for you. It's not," he stops, shaking his head. "It's just. I never spend my money on anything. My mates and my family - they all fucking bug me about it, and here I found something that would make me happy - making _you_ happy - and it's not something you want."

Now Ryan feels like even more of an asshole. "I do -- it's not --" he sighs, giving in. "Okay," he whispers. "I mean, thank you." He just wants to kiss Sam and make all of this go away. Fucking fucked-up world. "But I need to talk to you about this some more." He knows he needs to, but god does he ever not want to. "Later."

Sam nods. "Okay." It's a little weird buying the bike after arguing and feeling like he badgered Ryan into it, but Sam hands over his credit card to the salesclerk and fills out the shipping paperwork, arranging for the bike to be held at the shipping depot in L.A. until they get back. "Now we can go riding together and you can show me those hills."

"I'd like that. My favourite trail goes right out over the ocean, it's got an amazing view. You'll love it." Ryan leans closer, barely restraining himself for propriety. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Sam says with a smile, giving Ryan's hand a surreptitious squeeze. He glances at his watch. "We'd better get the rest of this stuff sent off and head over."

They take the escalator back downstairs, Ryan still looking around at everything with bright eyes. On the first floor they hit the shipping counter and hand over all their small purchases to be sent back home, taking a few minutes to fill out gift cards and choose wrappings.

Outside the day is turning a bit milder, the breeze easing off as they set out for the London Eye. Ryan's made reservations for three for a private tour capsule, figuring the camouflage can only help. He's jittery now, unsettled from their argument. Needing to touch Sam to center himself again.

"You okay?" Sam asks, noticing how quiet Ryan's gotten.

"Yeah." Ryan gazes at him as they walk, long matched strides. "Just need you."

Sam nods, grabbing Ryan's arm, and turns them into the next alley. He pulls him past a garbage bin, looking to make sure they're not being watched before tugging Ryan into his arms, holding him close, kissing the side of his throat.

It's paradoxical, how Sam can make Ryan's heart race at the same time he's calming him down. But it works. He breathes Sam in, slipping his hands beneath Sam's coat, wrapping his arms around him. Just holding him.

No words are needed. Sam kisses Ryan's throat and breathes in the scent and the warmth of him, tempted for a moment to forget about their sightseeing, to head back to Citadel and spend the rest of the afternoon in bed, naked and entwined. But it's Ryan's first time in London and the Eye is the last of their plans today... "Better?" he whispers finally, drawing back a little to look in Ryan's eyes.

"Much better." Ryan brushes a kiss over Sam's lips, then eases back until he's just holding Sam's hands in his.

"Good." Sam smiles, squeezing Ryan's hands in his, thumbs rubbed over the fingers. Feeling much more settled himself. "We'd better get going though before they give away our pod to someone else."

They arrive at the Eye just on time, and Ryan gives the concierge a shrug. "Yeah, our friend isn't coming, so it'll be just the two of us," he explains, which seems like a good excuse. They're escorted to their private pod, where a cheese and fruit platter is waiting for them, as well as a bottle of champagne on ice. The view is incredible already, London stretching out beneath them.

"Do you recognize the various buildings? Or do you want me to tell you the ones I know?" Sam asks, already busy opening the champagne.

"I can tell a few of them," Ryan answers, his hands pressed against the glass as he surveys the city. "There's the Tower. Harrod's is over that way." He points. "And way back there is Citadel, mixed in with the office buildings." He accepts a flute of champagne from Sam with thanks. "Tell me some more."

"In a second," Sam says, raising his own glass. "To us."

Ryan smiles widely and gently clinks his glass against Sam's. ''To us.''

Sam takes a sip and turns back to the windows, pointing at the various buildings as the Eye slowly rotates. "We're moving East to West," he explains. "So that's the business district over there, the City of Westminster, St. Paul's, the Gherkin," he grins, "Canary Wharf, Tower Bridge which you already know, and the Tower of London which we visited this morning."

''It's beautiful. Must be absolutely stunning by night.'' Ryan drops his free hand to brush against Sam's fingers.

"Yeah. The lights are supposed to be something else," Sam says, smiling at Ryan before continuing to point out the various sites. "That's Cleopatra's Needle and that green dome used to be the reading room at the British Museum. And that white tower there is part of London University."

"Wow. I've seen the obelisk like that in Paris," Ryan says, pointing at Cleopatra's Needle. "And I read there's one in New York too, but I haven't really been there. Have you been up here before?"

Sam nods. "Yeah, a couple years ago, but I was by myself and in a pod with a whole group."

"Different, huh?" Ryan nods. "And, incidentally, I think this is the longest we've ever been somewhere semi-private that I haven't tried to tackle you." He grins, cheeky and proud of himself.

Sam laughs. "Are you going to make it until we get back?" he teases.

Ryan puts his free hand in his pocket and sips at his champagne. "I don't know," he says, pretty much serious. "If I do, do I get a prize?"

"Yeah." Sam grins. "You get what I said you would earlier." Pausing for a second before adding, "Unless there's something you'd rather have."

"I think that would please me just fine," Ryan murmurs, lust slamming into him like a wave. _Shit_. That promise just got so much harder to keep, and he takes a big step away from Sam. Just in case.

That gets a soft chuckle and Sam drains his first glass of champagne, eyes sparkling over the rim of the glass. "I'm that much of a temptation, am I?"

"You know damn well you are," Ryan tells him with a grin. He sets down his glass so he can grab the bottle and pour Sam a refill. "Dangerously irresistible. A threat to my very sanity."

"And here I thought you'd already lost that," Sam deadpans.

"Debatable. It's been close, a few times. Usually with you," Ryan points out. He tops off his own glass and takes a large swallow, the bubbles bursting on his tongue.

Sam smiles. "I like driving you to the edge," he admits, unable to resist pushing every button when their kinks line up so fucking well.

Ryan shuts his eyes with a soft whimper. "Why? Why, Sam?" he asks with a laugh, stepping away to sit in a large armchair angled towards the glass wall. "God," he mutters, his cock swelling behind his zipper, "it's not like I'm even a challenge."

"I don't need a challenge," Sam says with a light shrug, moving to stand beside Ryan. "What I need is someone who knows what they want, doesn't play games and who's really into the same things as me and not just pretending they are."

He's tantalizingly close. Ryan can't resist reaching out, sliding his hand over Sam's thigh. Cupping the curve of his ass for a moment before letting go. "I'm crap at pretending."

"Good." Sam grins. "’Cause that makes two of us."

Ryan flicks a grin up at Sam, _this_ close to grabbing his hand and pulling him down into his lap. "You just love torturing me. 'Course I love being tortured, so..." He laughs.

"It's win-win," Sam finishes, laughing as well. He puts his hand on the back of Ryan's neck, just letting it rest there. "Did you want me to point out the rest of the sights or should we just watch everything go by?" he asks.

"Let's just watch." Ryan turns his head and breathes a kiss over Sam's skin before returning his gaze to the view. Determined to behave, even if it kills him. Which he thinks it might, at this point.

///

Sam insists on taking the Tube back to Citadel, determined to torment Ryan even more. Once inside though... "Take your clothes off and crawl, slowly, through the bar and to the lifts. I want everyone to see you first. See what they're not getting."

"Oh god." Ryan swallows hard, and his waning erection swells back to full hardness in seconds. Standing in the lobby, he pulls off his coat, then peels out of the rest of his clothing, letting it lie where it falls. Shoes off, jeans, and he's down on his knees, a full-body flush rising as he crawls into the bar.

Sam waves over a staff member and gives her their room number. The clothes'll be brought up later. He follows Ryan into the bar, close enough to leave no doubt they're together, enjoying the looks of clear desire Ryan's attracting. Wondering what it would be like if Ryan really was his and his alone.

Time stretches, pulling taut, and all Ryan can think about is putting one hand in front of the other. The bar is _huge_ , shit. But he knows Sam is behind him, watching, and that keeps him going when he feels so fucking rusty. He can feel Sam's gaze like a brand on his skin, and he tunes everything else out. Focusing.

Fucking gorgeous. Just watching Ryan crawl is enough to have Sam so hard it actually hurts. Watching those muscles move, that animal-like slink, his cock and balls swinging, swaying, slicked hole visible between his cheeks. Christ.

At last Ryan crosses the threshold, entering the foyer where the lifts are waiting. The weight of so many heated stares falls away until there truly is only Sam. The only one who matters. He kneels and presses the up button, breathing too fast for so little effort. He keeps his gaze downcast, hands placed demurely behind his back.

The lift is at the top floor and it doesn't seem in any hurry to come down. "Stand up," Sam says, acutely aware of the fact that once they get upstairs, _he's_ the one getting fucked. "Brace your hands against the wall beside the doors."

Getting to his feet Ryan obeys, splaying his fingers against the wall. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and spreads his thighs without even thinking about it.

"I never thought it would be so hard to keep my hands off someone," Sam murmurs, running his hand down Ryan's back, over his ass, between his cheeks.

Ryan grins, shivering slightly with excitement at Sam's touch. At his words. "That's how I felt all damn day," he says, tipping forward a bit so Sam has even better access. "Fighting the urge to grab you and make you mine."

"Make me yours?" Sam grins, pushing two thick fingers into Ryan's hole. "What would you've done?"

Ryan cries out, surprised. Instantly clamping down and working his muscles around Sam's fingers. "Just-- just grab you," he gasps, "kiss you, rub against you. Turn you on until you couldn't think for needing me to touch you more. Make you want me."

"I do want you," Sam says, working those fingers deeper, in harder, his cock jerking sharply both at Ryan's eagerness and the small audience they're starting to gather. He presses closer, mouth against Ryan's ear. "Want your cock inside me, fucking me, making me scream. You think you can do that? Fuck me hard enough to make me scream?"

" _Yes_." Ryan groans, torn. Sam's fingers feel so fucking good, but _damn_... He reaches back and shoves Sam away, spinning to grab him, yank him off-balance and slam him against the wall. Ryan kisses him hard, devouring his mouth, and slips his hand down the front of Sam's jeans to close tightly around his cock.

Stunned by the sudden move, Sam groans into the kiss, his cock throbbing hard in Ryan's grip. He bites at Ryan's mouth, hands on his shoulders, ready to push him back but resisting the urge. Wanting to see what Ryan does next.

Ryan swiftly works Sam's jeans open and start stroking, his hold tight and demanding. He puts his other hand to Sam's throat, pressing him back against the wall. Kissing him just as fiercely.

Sam bites at Ryan's mouth, groaning again, the sound low and ragged, so very aware of the eyes on them. The lift dings, its doors sliding open and he pulls back, licking at his lips, panting out a single order, "Room."

Ryan's eyes spark and he lets go, only to grab Sam's hand and yank him into the lift. He can't keep off, just letting Sam hit the button for their floor before he tangles his hands in Sam's hair, dragging him back in close.

Christ. It's like he's being devoured and Sam doesn't mind one bit. He gives as good as he's getting, hands gripping and spreading Ryan's cheeks, hiking him hard against his front and his aching cock.

With a moan Ryan rubs against him, shoving at Sam's jacket. Unwilling to let go long enough to undress him. He slips his hand beneath Sam's shirt and claws his nails down Sam's back, needing hot skin against his fingers.

Sam groans at the rake of nails, shuddering, his cock jerking. Bites even harder at Ryan's mouth, lips aiming to bruise. And then the lift dings again, its doors opening and they stumble out into the hall.

Now Ryan does push Sam's jacket from his shoulders, and takes the cardkey as well. They stagger down the hallway, Ryan's hands working Sam's shirt off as they go. Finally he swings wide the door to their room and pulls his lover inside, quickly getting him naked the rest of the way. "Hands and knees, on the bed," he orders, snatching up a tube of lubricant.

Sam grins and does as he's told. Spreads his legs wide, arching his back, looking over his shoulder at Ryan. Finding it insanely hot that his lover can be so submissive and yet so commanding when called for.

''Fuck you're gorgeous,'' Ryan breathes, staring for a moment before his brain knocks him back into action. He gets on the bed behind Sam and slicks his fingers generously, then pushes one deep inside.

"Oh god," Sam whispers, arching even more to get that finger deeper.

Ryan moans, feeling the tight clutch of Sam's body. He presses a second fingertip against Sam's hole, starting to stretch him. Then twists inside, seeking that hot bundle of nerves that'll light Sam up.

A ragged groan spilling forth, Sam curses under his breath, his body clenching down tight for an instant before he forces himself to relax again. "More, fuck," he whispers, licking his lips, his cock already wet at the tip.

Grinning, Ryan leans down and licks his way up Sam's spine. Slowly he presses a third finger in, dragging it out for both of them. Then corkscrewing his fingers together, his cock aching.

Sam curses louder this time, shoving himself back on Ryan's fingers, pleasure sparking through him at the stretch. "Fuck me," he groans. "For god's sake, fuck me."

Lust twists into a hard knot in Ryan's gut, the sound of Sam's voice going straight to his core. "It'll hurt," he murmurs, knowing he hasn't prepped Sam enough yet. But he's already lining up, blunt head of his cock pressed tight against Sam's hole, then _in_.

Sam starts to say he doesn't care but then Ryan's pushing in, hard, and it hurts so much every other fucking thought leaves his brain. He cries out, fingers curling into fists against the bed, his body clamping down tight.

"Fuck!" Ryan stops short at the teeth-grinding clench on his cock, searing naked skin on skin. He rubs Sam's lower back with his hand and slowly begins rocking in, pressing a fraction deeper each time.

It gets better. Quickly. Muscle resisting only the initial intrusion. "Yeah, don't stop," Sam whispers, head bowed between his shoulders, fingers uncurling, his body slowly relaxing again. "Want you."

Ryan moans, need curling through him. "You said you'd beg," he whispers, but can't make himself demand it. It's not in him, and besides, he wants this too fucking much to stop.

"Gimme a sec," Sam whispers back, waiting for the pain to recede more, segue into pleasure. And then he's dropping to his elbows, his legs spread even wider. Opening himself to Ryan. "Fuck me." God. " _Please_ fuck me."

 _Oh my god_. Ryan can hardly breathe, his chest is so tight. He pulls back, sliding out almost to the tip. Then he eases back in, the way a tiny bit smoother now. Slowly he starts to pick up the pace, rocking deeper into Sam with each thrust.

Sam cries out with the first few thrusts, then groans with the next, those groans growing louder, filling the room as Ryan drives into him, coring him open, his body stretching to accommodate, welcome, beg still for more. "Harder," he whispers. "Please, harder..."

With a gasp Ryan drives in to the hilt, pausing for a moment to relish the incredible feeling of being fully gloved by Sam's body. Then he draws back and slams in again, all the way, his rhythm steadying as he loses himself in his lover.

It's brilliant. Everything he ever wanted. And Sam braces himself, hands sliding forward to press against the headboard, letting Ryan fuck him hard and then harder, his cries growing in volume, his cock leaking steadily, dripping on the covers below.

"Christ, Sam!" Ryan's so close, so fucking on edge that his entire body is taut with the strain of it. "Sir!" He reaches down and fists Sam's cock with his hand, wanting them to go over together.

"Fuck yeah," Sam nods, shouting loudly as his body clenches tight and his cock starts spurting, lacing the bed and Ryan's fingers with thick stripes of white.

It's too much for Ryan. He bucks against Sam, driving into him wildly. His orgasm engulfs him, taking him over, the slick feel of his cock moving in his lover's body blowing his mind. Sam wet on his hand, his hands slipping in come and sweat.

Sam moans, feeling Ryan spill into him, the path suddenly eased, his hole so fucking open. He shudders through the aftershocks, pushing back, wanting to prolong the feeling as long as he can.

Ryan gasps for breath, hips slowing. "Fuck," he whispers, "fuck fuck fuck." He drops his forehead to rest against Sam's shoulders, covering him with his body. Feeling their heartbeats pound in tandem.

Sam nods. "Yeah." Chucking softly at the both of them. "God." Breathing slowly, his eyes closed, Ryan still throbbing inside him. "That was incredible."

Easing out, Ryan ignores the mess and lies down next to Sam, immediately reaching out to pull him down, too. The only words on his lips are ones he holds back from saying, so he's silent, putting love into his touch as he slowly strokes Sam's back.

It's the gentle touch that gets to Sam. _That_ was incredible but this, this is something he's never had from anyone. Never gotten close enough to anyone to have it. Fuck. He shifts, pressing closer, face buried against Ryan's skin, breathing him in, hesitant to break the silence, threaten this moment, emotions suddenly far too close to the surface for his comfort.

Gradually Ryan's heartbeat slows and he lets himself drift, thinking of nothing but right now, holding Sam close to him. He feels completely at peace, a faint smile on his face. ''You're amazing,'' he tells Sam in a whisper, still wonderfully overwhelmed.

Sam lifts his head and kisses Ryan. "So are you," he murmurs, matching that smile.

“Let me clean you up,'' Ryan says, grinning like a little boy. He climbs out of bed and hits the bathroom, returning in a minute with a warm wet cloth. He cleans Sam up with care before swiping cursorily at himself.

"Mm." Sam lays back, hands under his head, utterly content and watching Ryan. "You hungry?"

''Starving. Worked up an appetite.'' Ryan tosses the cloth towards the sink and lies back down, grabbing the phone. ''What are you in the mood for?''

"Steak, baked potato, the works," Sam grins, rolling over for a better view of Ryan. "I've got that bottle of scotch from Christmas."

''Perfect.'' Ryan orders, getting a huge bacon cheeseburger with chips for himself. His cuts from their last scene are nearly all healed now. He takes Sam's hand and traces it over a mark on his chest, simply enjoying the intimacy of touch.

Sam smiles. "When they heal completely, I'll make more or reopen these." He hasn't decided yet.

''Ahh, but first...'' Ryan kisses Sam's fingertips. ''I think you were going to try out your Christmas present.'' He's gotten so greedy with Sam.

"That's right," Sam murmurs, eyes flickering over Ryan's mouth. "I did." He smiles then sobers a little. "We were also going to talk about money."

Ryan blanches, shrugging a little. ''We don't have to do that now.''

"No, but we probably should," Sam says, leaning in to kiss another mark. "Especially since we've managed to satisfy our urge to jump each other's bones for the moment."

It's exactly the way to get to Ryan. He'd answer if ordered to, certainly. But melting him is so much more efficient. "My bank account's getting low," he whispers, embarrassed to admit it and dropping his gaze. "My Citadel membership is up for renewal next month, and I won't be able to afford it." They'll have to find somewhere else to scene. To hang out together where Sam won't be bothered.

Shit. Well that explains some of Ryan's earlier reaction. "You should let me pay for it," Sam says, rushing on before Ryan can protest. "Seriously. We can't scene at your place on a regular basis and I can't afford to be seen elsewhere, so you'd be doing me a favour if you let me."

Ryan stares at his lover, his start skipping a beat, his cheeks flushing. "Sam... it's a lot of money."

"Not to me it isn't," Sam says firmly.

Swallowing hard, Ryan looks away. He frowns at the ceiling. "How am I supposed to pay you back?"

"You're not." Sam pauses for a moment. "Look. We already talked about you coming back to Australia with me when I shoot that new project. You're not going to be able to afford to keep flying back and forth if you're already running low on money. I think you should let me pay for the major costs, including your Citadel membership."

"It's true," Ryan whispers. He knows Sam is right; there's no way he can keep up. Not the way things are now. "But I don't want you to feel like you have to take care of me."

"I don't," Sam grins. "The way I see it, I'm the one benefiting."

Ryan rolls his eyes, but he's starting to smile. He pushes Sam to his back and lays his head on his chest, listening to Sam's heartbeat. "This isn't permanent," he says after a moment. "I want you to know that."

"What isn't?"

"This arrangement," Ryan explains. "When one of my songs charts, I'll be able to pay my own way again."

"Okay, but don't be in a rush," Sam says, running his fingers idly through Ryan's hair. "Put some money away first."

Ryan laughs a little, relaxing once more beneath Sam's touch. "For what?"

"A rainy day," Sam says with a smile. "Or at least that's what my mum and dad always told me."

"Yeah, they taught you well. You're ready for forty days and nights." Ryan kisses Sam's collarbone, then looks up at a knock on the door. "I'll get it."  



End file.
